1983
by organanation
Summary: Washington DC, Spring 1983: Senator Leia Solo had a long day at work and is looking forward to a quiet evening at home with her husband. Plotless fluff set in the Politician and the Truck Driver (Before They Were the Solos) 'verse.


_AN: Surprise! Some plotless Monday fluff for you because I was in DC on vacation and just had to write something in this 'verse now that I have actually been to their hometown. There is literally no point to this other than I had the typical first-day-back blues today, and I wish I had a Han to make me smile._

Washington DC, 1983

Senator Leia Organa Solo stepped off the recently-opened Blue Metro line and followed the crowd of rush-hour commuters down the platform to the stairs. She glanced at her watch: 6:18. The committee meeting she'd been in had actually ended on time for once, and she would make it home at a reasonable hour.

Han had been gone for the past four days on a drive, and, barring the unexpected, would be waiting for her at home. The metro station was about a six-minute walk from their house, and Leia hoped to make it in four. After a few long, lonely days, nothing sounded better than being scooped up and thoroughly kissed by her husband.

They'd been through a lot in the last fifteen or so years. They'd moved from DC to Alabama for a while after Carl Rieekan retired, then they'd come back to Washington part-time when Leia was elected in 1980. Han had been completely supportive of her, promising that he could drive a truck out of Timbuktu just as easily as Alabama or DC, if it came down to that. They'd been through the death of Han's best friend together, and the death of two of Leia's aunts, and the loss of their beloved Chewbacca. The Solos had had their ups and their downs, yes—but they'd made it this far.

Wicket, their Pomeranian, greeted her at the door. Leia left her briefcase and coat in the hall, pausing briefly to admire the pictures hung in the hall: their wedding, family shots, vacations, and a few blank frames they had as a promise to each other that they'd make it to the rest of Route 66 together one of these days.

Leia glanced around the cozy, dark-colored kitchen when she walked in, her eyes falling finally on the fine frame of her husband at the stove, not realizing just how acutely she'd missed him.

He'd always been the one to prepare the meals, and she still found it just a tiny bit sexy when she found him with the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled past his wrists and a smear of whatever he was cooking on his cheek or lips. She'd figured out, eventually, that he did that on purpose in the hopes that she'd lick it off. Today, Han was in one of his typical flannel shirts and had the sleeves rolled up, per normal. His hair was just barely too long, and it hung messily over the collar. She'd have fun getting her fingers tangled up in it after they turned in for the night.

Leia wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled her face into his back.

"Hey, Sweetheart," he murmured.

"Hi," Leia responded.

"I made dinner."

"It smells good. Thank you," she replied, snuggling into him.

"That feels good," Han stated.

"Mhm," she responded, tightening her arms around him. Han loosened her grip on his torso and turned away from the stove. He kissed her the way she'd been waiting for all day, like he had all the time in the world to hold her in his arms, to savor the taste of her lips, like he wanted to take everything that had weighed on her mind over the past four days and throw it in the Potomac. Han finally broke the kiss and looked contentedly into her eyes. Leia returned the gaze for a moment before pulling him back for another.

"You okay?" he asked when they pulled apart and Leia nestled up against him again.

"Yes. Everything's just been _insane_ since Anne Burford resigned and Reagan announced the new defense initiative…it feels like we put in 60 hour weeks and still end up 70 hours behind. And on top of that, Pat and her husband are getting divorced and she has somehow decided I'm her shoulder to cry on. I'm not _worried_ about us, or anything, but it's still depressing to think about, you know?" Leia vented, leaning her head against his chest.

"I know. Seems like nobody's stayin' together anymore," Han confirmed, stroking her back gently.

"She says all these awful things and it just makes me…homesick for you, I guess, and I _already_ miss you because you're gone…I'm just glad you're home."

"Me, too," Han agreed, tipping her chin up to his and pressing a tender, passionate kiss into her mouth. "For the record, I'm not worried about us, either, and I don't ever intend on leavin' you," he promised. Leia smiled.

"Good."

They put dinner on the table together. Leia ran her fingers over the wooden surface of the table, remembering the cracked vinyl table they'd had when they first got married—and that _awful_ bright-orange kitchen. Han caught her fingers where they were worrying at a fray in the table runner and laced her fingers with his. Just that small moment of contact was enough to slow her flying mind down. They talked between bites about what the other had missed during the last four days.

Wicket had finally learned to roll over, there was a new subdivision going up along a stretch of highway they always took going home to Alabama, and Shara's boy, Poe, had his first girlfriend. Luke had called to say that he was taking a sabbatical that summer and had planned it during the Senate recess in hopes of being able to spend a few days with Han and Leia.

After dinner, they stuck with their age-old tradition: a walk to the park. Han pulled out Wicket's leash and they walked the few blocks down to Kenilworth. The cherry blossoms were at their peak, and so were the magnolias. The beauty of the city never failed to awe Leia. She loved the colonial and Grecian architecture set off by the rosy pink blossoms.

They settled on the bench inside the fenced area and Han let the puppy run free. He kept an eye on Wicket while Leia read another chapter aloud of Schindler's List, a book that had been published near the end of the previous year and was becoming immensely popular. She'd started reading aloud for them a long time ago, before they were even married. It was election season, which meant that she was often left to hold the fort in the DC office while Carl returned to Alabama to campaign. That meant that date night either consisted of Leia working and Han cooking, or it didn't happen at all. One evening, after a long week of thinking, Leia had asked if she could read her last few briefings aloud to keep her head on straight. Han had agreed, and somehow, it had eventually morphed into Leia reading books for them.

When it was too dark for her to make out the words, Han whistled for Wicket and clipped the leash on her collar. Leia slipped the novel into her bag and pushed under Han's arm.

"Feeling better?" he asked as they took the long way home, along the Anacostia river after stopping for ice cream from a street vendor.

"Yes, thanks to you." He hugged her tightly. They stopped at a cross walk and Han leaned down for a chocolate-flavored kiss.

"It's early yet," he informed her, accompanied by a look she knew very well.

"Is it?"

"Sure is. In California, it's almost Happy Hour," Han teased as they unlocked the door to their townhouse.

"By all means, let's celebrate," she invited, locking the door and slipping out of her shoes.

Han pulled her into a searing kiss that made her forget her own name, and when the fog cleared enough for her to see, she realized he'd done it again. Her husband had the absolutely maddening ability to have her halfway undressed before she even realized his hands weren't on her waist anymore.

Much later that night, they lay curled against each other, pressing lazy kisses wherever they could reach.

"I know the beginning of your day wasn't great, but I hope the ending made up for it," Han murmured.

"Mhm."

"Good, because I think I'd like to keep doing this married thing for about 50 years."

"Me, too."

 _AN: Please leave a review, and I hope your week is fantastic! See you Sunday!_


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